


Lead Us into Temptation

by fathomswritings



Series: Happy Holidays [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (This is Pure Sin), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blasphemy, Church Sex, Demons, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Halloween, Happy Holidays 2018/2019, Incubus Connor, Incubus RK900, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Priest Hank Anderson, Priest Kink, Priests, Rough Sex, incubus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fathomswritings/pseuds/fathomswritings
Summary: From the moment Father Anderson had bared witness to that smile, he knew he was fucked. Like,I’m-going-to-be-sent-to-hell-because-now-I-am-lusting-after-this-manfucked.Father Hank Anderson has been struggling with himself, his temptations, and desires ― but his duties as a Priest to his parish come before everything. He didn’t expect to find salvation within the brown eyes and between the legs of the embodiment of sin itself.





	Lead Us into Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> so yes I'm back after major writer's block with a fantastic AU for you guys. I have been writing this since the first week of september you guys so that's how bad I had it
> 
> there are a couple things I don't really like about it but overall I think I did a pretty good job
> 
> (((idk if you guys knew but I went to catholic school and I'm sort of used to all of the lingo but I tried to refrain from using too much jesusness in this because I know some people don't like reading about it so if there's something you don't want to see in here just let me know)))
> 
> happy (almost) halloween you guys!

He was youthful, hair that was like darkened, warm coffee, and skin like a peach. At church, Hank would see his eyes, deep, brown pools that sparkled when the sun shone through the stained-glass windows. He always wore a soft expression, eyes lingering for a little too long, head cocked to the side. Always smiled coyly when their gaze met.

From the moment Father Anderson had bared witness to that smile, he knew he was fucked. Like, _I’m-going-to-be-sent-to-hell-because-now-I-am-lusting-after-this-man_ fucked.

Amongst a sea of familiar faces and people who attended church, Father Anderson saw those pretty brown eyes. Hank had first met the man on a Sunday morning. After morning mass had ended, the brunet had mingled amongst the crowd which had stayed in the area where tea and coffee were served. People lingered and talked about the mass, and many stopped Hank to thank him for his blessings, or to compliment his efforts on the day’s sermon.

The earlier morning’s golden sun was now turning red, its rays casting through stained-glass and bathing the cathedral in a deep crimson hue. Hank could feel the cold October air circling the old building, a chill creeping through the cracks in the walls. The church had long since been emptied of its congregation after the evening service, many of the flock retreating home for the night to prepare dinner or watch television together.

It was late. Hank was looking forward to heading home, getting a good night’s rest with Sumo by his side. Father Anderson returned bibles to the stacks and set to smother the flames of the flickering candles lining the altar wall.

And suddenly, a soft voice echoed through the cathedral.

A few hushed words were shared by two figures in the front pew, one towering the other as they stood to their full height. Hank couldn’t hear what they were saying, something that sounded like an argument, though neither dared to raise their voice.

“Hello?” Hank said aloud, both figures twisting to glance at the priest.

Oh, it was the man who’d been eying him for a few weeks now, along with ― a twin brother.

They looked alike in almost every way, but the one standing had grey eyes and stood a few inches taller. The stormy-eyed brother mumbled something to the other, stepping away from the pew and heading towards the heavy double doors to exit the building.

“It’s Father Anderson, right?” the seated man said, holding a bible close to his chest. Even in the dimly lit church, he looked divine.

Hank grinned. “Yeah, that’s me, but feel free to call me Hank, alright? I’m kinda off duty.” He said easily, wanting to ease his visitor as he stepped down from the raised stage area and onto the concrete floor.

“Hank…” The man rolled the name around his tongue, testing the sound of it. He seemed to like it.

The priest felt a tug of unease in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to help, but the situation and the odd atmosphere that hung around his late-night visitor made him on edge. “I’m sorry,” Hank, chuckled softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever caught your name.”

The brunet smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “My name is Connor.”

“Are you new in town? I’m asking because I’ve only seen you a handful of times here.”

“Just passing through. My brother and I are doing some business here. We are devout Catholics, so we must attend church on Sundays.” Connor said, hands dropping the bible onto his lap with a smile on his face. “I suppose that your perish struck a chord within me.”

Hank felt the pit of his stomach flush with heat, something inside of him stirring at Connor’s smile, something otherworldly, and frustration came to the forefront of his mind.

_What the hell was wrong with him?_

He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, still taken aback by his visitor’s appearance. His mouth was as dry as the Mojave, his heart fluttering a little too fast inside his ribcage. “Is there anything I can do for you, my son?”

Those sinful, pink lips turned up in a little smile, the young man’s eyes lifting shyly to his. “I’ve come for a confession.”

“Confession ended ‘bout a half-hour ago. You can come back tomorr―”

 _“Please,”_ Connor said shortly, his eyes darting up, constricting his grip around the priest’s wrist, and when Hank’s voice faltered, he let his hold slacken. “I― ” His voice had softened, his eyes lowering to the ground. “―I need to be vindicated of my sins,” He breathed, his voice suddenly thick, “please...”

Hank hovered above the younger man, his eyes like an abyss of chestnut that seemed to suck the old man in. The congregation member slowly raised himself off of the pew. His hand guided the priest’s atop the Bible, bringing it to press flat against the leather binding, fingertips tracing along the gold lettering.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Connor leaned in closer and ghosted over the dusky fabric of Hank’s cassock. Connor stared deep into Hank’s blues, searching around for something unbeknownst to the reverend. “My last confession was six weeks ago,” the brunet leaned in closer and Hank could sense his woodsy musk. The timid uncertainty stripped away, Connor’s eyes dragging long and slow up Father Anderson’s body, his wet, rosy tongue gliding over the soft swell of his lower lip. “And these are my sins.”

Hank eased in, tension in his shoulders loosening as he continued to examine the young man’s features, his breath escaping him in a low sigh. “I have disrespected my consanguinity, I’ve lied, I’ve stolen, I’ve cursed God’s name, but worst of all...” Connor breathed appreciatively, closing the distance between them, Father Anderson still frozen in place. “...I’ve lusted for a member of the cloth.”

The priest’s eyes snapped up in shock, a dumbfounded look stricken on his features. Connor grazed his lips on the shell of Hank’s ear, catching the lobe between his teeth, sending the reverend’s nerves haywire.

It had been a long time since Hank had given in to the temptation of the flesh. Too long.

Father Anderson managed to wrap a hand around the congregation member’s skinny wrist, stroking over the veins. Connor’s eyes fell shut, thick, dark lashes fanned over high cheekbones. “I’ve touched myself thinking about you, Father.”

The brunet’s mouth traveled down to the priest’s neck, tongue darting out to lick and suck along the column and jawline. Hank can’t prevent himself from letting out an embarrassing sigh as the church goer’s mouth sucks on a soft spot.

"I think you have, too. I've seen you watching me, checking me out during mass, Father. Have you done penance for lusting?" Connor teased. “Especially after a young man?” Hank blushed and avoided Connor's strong gaze.

"Connor, you know that this is wrong," Hank spoke quietly.

"If you don’t want this from me, I’ll step right out of those church doors, but if you do," He shot the reverend a sultry look, something that didn’t belong on such a pure face, brushing his lips to Hank’s ear. _"I want you to fuck me until I can’t stand,"_ he whispered, then nipped at Hank's ear.

Then, Hank let out a low growl in his throat, percussing his lips down onto Connor’s with such ferocity that even the younger man was confounded. The kiss turned soft for a moment, to feel each other out, but neither man could handle that ㅡ not after the dirty confessions and inviting smirks. It was a pure necessity, each of them delving deeper into each other, experiencing heat rise within them in just the right way.

And then Hank’s thumb traced over Connor’s pulse.

Except there wasn’t one there.

Hank jerked in alarm, his hand unable to be liberated from the freezing skin of his wrist ― like a tongue against cold metal, and for a moment, Father Anderson panicked, until a realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

_Something was wrong with him._

His hand was mindlessly carding through Connor’s hair.

_Fuck ― this isn’t right―_

Connor shivered, letting Hank slip his tongue into the younger man’s warm mouth, letting their breath intermix between them.

 _What in God’s name is this man_ doing _to him?_

As if he’d been scalded by pure hellfire, Father Anderson lurched back, eyes wide as he shoved at Connor, who looked almost as taken aback by the action as he did. The reverend’s mouth hung open in shock as he still felt tingles from where the brunet’s tongue ran over his lip.

Connor was back on him in less than a second, shedding his jacket with an effortless shrug and sliding his body along his, lashes lowered, lips parted. It took all of Hank’s might to not to drag the boy into a filthy, hot kiss.

“What are you doing to me?” He gasped raggedly, his vision blurring, body throbbing with carnality. God ― he wanted ― _needed_ to touch him. But it wasn’t right, this whole situation was _wrong_ and Father Anderson’s mind adhered to sanity regardless of how much he wanted to corrupt the beautiful young man until he completely shattered beneath him.

Connor didn’t give up. He moved closer, his lips grazing the older man’s, cold hands dragging over his body as he rocked his hardening cock against the front of Hank’s cassock. “Father, please…” He whimpers, his breath hot on his mouth, voice low and lusty, and Hank felt his stomach dip with unquenchable desire.

But the more desperate he felt, the more Father Anderson knew something was _very wrong_ with him. The more he wanted, the more he knew he had to stop.

Abruptly, Hank shoved him back again, a little harder this time. “What the hell _are_ you?” the priest snarled, his gaze like ice on the atonal, brown-eyed man against him.

For a moment, the stranger just gaped, his sinful pink lips parted enough to see his tongue between his teeth, chest heaving below him, and it was the most alluring sights that Hank had been bestowed upon. But then again ― that’s just what Connor wanted, wasn’t it?

As subtle as shifting wind, Connor’s features phased. The change wasn’t extreme, in fact, a part of Hank was sure his mind was playing tricks, but suddenly, those lusty features twisted into something else entirely. He knew for certain that the thing against him wasn't entirely _human_.

Something unnatural made his eyes darken, cheeks hollow, a new sharpness to his teeth. The texture of his skin changed beneath Hank’s fingertips, the fairness of it whitening impossibly and giving off a soft shimmer.

He was still beautiful. _Hauntingly_ beautiful. But it was illusory ― more striking. The priest felt a familiar heat tug in the pit of his stomach.

And suddenly, everything made sense. The unnatural appearance, the uncontrollable lust. He knew what he was, and what he’d done, and Hank felt his breath leave his lungs. “You’re an incubus.”

Connor blinked, staring at the priest for a moment, letting him squirm for just a second before his gaze dropped, and Father Anderson felt the desperation fade. His eyes dropped closed, a raw huff escaping his lips.

Guilt. Shame. Humiliation.

It wasn’t fair how easily it played with his mind. This creature entered the house of God and tried to seduce a member of the cloth, sending Hank into whiplash. But something within the reverend twisted like a hot knife. Because the most disturbing thing was ― even without the incubus’ power, Hank still wanted him.

A fucking _lust_ demon.

Father Anderson knew that this was about the wrongest thing he could do, lie with a demon, but it would be a lie if he said he didn’t want it. And for once, he’d let himself have it. The pureness of the moment, the feeling of soft lips on his own, of a skilled tongue making its way into his mouth, he wanted it all.

He huffed softly, grabbing Connor's jacket, and yanking him closer, their bodies connecting in a familiar heat.

The priest’s hands made their way up to Connor's hair, entangled in the raven locks, and tugged hard enough so that the younger man let out a little whine that had Hank's cock perking up more and more. Father Anderson pulled away from the kiss to breathe, then immediately went to suck at Connor's neck, biting and bruising the pale skin.

He moaned softly, pushing Connor backward into the pew. "What am I going to say about the bruises, Father? You want me to tell the congregation that a _priest_ did this to me?" Connor purred, and the silver-haired man groaned, nodding.

The churchgoer immediately began to strip from his clothes as Father Anderson opened his robes, unzipping the fly of his dress pants and freeing himself. He licked his lips at the sight of Connor’s cock, hard and weeping, just what he liked. Judging by what Connor was, he was likely attuned to the priest’s wants and desires. He started to speak, but Connor just grabbed him, grinding his hips down onto each other, slotting their cocks together with a growl and an unsteady moan.

Father Anderson let out a sigh, his head dropping to the brunet’s shoulder, pressing chaste kisses and bites to his skin as he moaned. The feeling of friction with every pass of their precome and sweat slick cocks sent them into a spiral.

"Oh, _fuck_ , you feel amazing," Hank breathed out, and Connor smiled wickedly into his skin.

"Well it must feel good when you can't even touch yourself, can't even fuck someone," Connor remarked as Hank pulled the incubus as close as possible, “or some _thing.”_

The older man nodded, his hips bucking upwards into the sensations, his lips slightly parted. "Not to rush you, Reverend, but this will feel much better if your fingers were inside of me or if you shove your cock up my ass." he cooed, and Hank nodded furiously.

The brunet chuckled, begrudgingly departing to fumble in his mess of clothes, pulling out a packet of lube and a condom.

Father Anderson couldn’t prevent himself from shooting him a look, and Connor shrugged. "What? Did you think I didn’t come prepared?” he began, wrapping a hand around the priest’s cock. "You think that someone like me doesn’t know what they're doing?" the brown-eyed demon grit out, giving the older man a tight squeeze. Hank shuddered, letting out a breathy whine.

"Bend over." Hank sternly ordered Connor, following it so eagerly, turning and placing his hands firmly on the back of the pew.

Soon, he felt a lubricated finger trace his entrance, slowly relaxing as Father Anderson drew warming circles over the muscle. Hank kissed over his back as he, strangely enough, took his time preparing Connor, a creature that most didn’t bother to care for, waiting a moment or so until a second finger slid in without protest.

"You missed this, right? I bet you used to finger other men all the time," Connor said nonchalantly like he wasn’t currently getting fingered in a church. Hank nodded shyly, and Connor smirked like the cat who’d gotten the canary.

And then, Connor let out a long, high pitched moan, his body seeking out the strong shock that racked through it.

 _"Oh God, right there!"_ he exclaimed, Father Anderson, taking pride and stroking his fingers over the small bundle of nerves that had Connor squeezing his brown eyes shut, gripping the lacquered wood of the pew strong enough that it left splinters on the surface.

Connor groaned, muttering a quiet, _'Oh, Hank._ ' The priest trailed his lips against the back of a pale neck, waiting another minute until his fingers pulled out, and he was working rapidly to free the condom from its confines.

The incubus’ blood rushed with nearly every feeling possible as Hank's hands anchored onto his hips, acutely attuned to the microscopic sounds that escaped past the older man’s lips. Taking a breath, Hank slid in until he had bottomed out. Connor reeling his head forward with a loud groan, arching his spine sharply, letting Father Anderson know what he desired.

"I want it rough, Father." Connor sighed into the shell of Hank's ear.

Hank grabbed his hips in a tenure, pulled out all the way before slamming back inside. Connor thrust back against the priest, panting. "Harder," he demanded, and Father Anderson just shook his head, giving a much more powerful thrust the next time, making the demon’s mouth hang open in a silent scream. "Fuck, _yes_ , like that.”

The blue-eyed priest kept up a quick and dirty rhythm, the sound of skin colliding, moans and curses were all echoed throughout the high ceilings of the cathedral.

As Connor slid his hands up Hank’s arm and shoulder, he finally found the reverend’s silky, silver hair, and after years of celibacy with the occasional slip-up, Hank keened on the bittersweet sensation.

Father Anderson gave a harsh bite to the side of his neck. "Y-you feel incredible," he sighed. " _Fuck_ , I missed this," he breathed out shakily.

The incubus smirked wickedly.

"I think you should do this more often. You know how good it feels to be pounding your cock into something. I bet you’re close. You haven't touched yourself, haven't fucked in years," Connor moans as he folds in on himself, the new angle pushing them both closer to the edge.

"I indulge, touch myself now and then. Haven't been with someone in, _unh_ , ‘bout six months, though," Hank panted.

Connor raised an eyebrow. "So filthy, Father. How many rosaries will you have to make? Probably a lot. Fucking a demon of lust is quite the sin, I’d say," he teased as Hank slid back inside.

Hank gasped and thrust harder at the tune of the incubus’ arched back, the ability to form coherent sentences completely dissolving. From the way that his thrusts sped up and the tiny noises that Connor let escape, they were both close to finishing.

“Hank, _ah_ , I’m really close,” the demon gasps.

“Me too.”

"Do you pray for forgiveness?” the younger man asked brokenly, meeting Hank thrust for thrust. “Do you tell God, _'Please absolve me of my sins, Father, for I have broken my vow of celibacy just to feel the tight squeeze of an ass around my cock?'_ " the brunet questioned, his voice broken and in gasps as his own orgasm stood mere seconds away.

Hank shifted his hips, smashing his cock into the demon's prostate. “No, I just prayed for _you_.”

The words pushed Connor over the edge as the heat in his lower belly became an uncontrollable inferno ― a sea of scorching flames. A wrecked cry escaping his lips as come splattered across the finely lacquered pew, the priest groaning at the image.

Hank came a few thrusts after Connor, white dancing behind his vision, blunt nails digging into his skin as the older man heard the brunet whimper and whine beneath him, panting hot and heavily.

The blue-eyed priest slowly pulled out with a huff of air and a soft smile. “You’re fucking incredible…” He murmured softly, and Hank heard the creature’s breath hitch in his ear.

“Stop it. You’re gonna make me blush, Father.” Connor teased lightly. He had to muffle it into the side of his shoulder, because his traitorous voice wobbled, ”I’m not really used to hearing compliments like that from people, honestly.”

Realization bubbled to the surface within the reverend.

He just fucked a demon. An _incubus_.

But whether he should have done it or not didn’t matter, especially now. If it did, God would have smitten him where he stood. But the damage had been done. Knowing what Connor was and what his true intentions were didn’t change that fact at all. He fucked a demon.

This all seemed like some perverted, twisted, _hellish_ fantasy.

And Father Anderson loved every second of it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> do you guys want a Part 2 of this with reed900? I'm down for it but idk if you guys are?? lemme know.
> 
> If you enjoyed this work please feel free to comment and leave kudos. I love seeing and hearing your guys' feedback!


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